


what happened to who we used to be? what have we become?

by 90scyke (peachypiper)



Category: Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: (kinda? it's. implicit i guess), (that needs fixing), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Rewrite, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up, Post-Schism, X-Men: Schism, i hate this comic!!! so i fixed it, its. mostly abt scott and logan but who would they be without their people??, probably mentions of sex later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 16:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13505238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachypiper/pseuds/90scyke
Summary: the hardest decision to make when you're fighting a war is whether or not children should join the fight, too. the second hardest decision is allowing them onto the battlefield. it cuts into you - if you're wrong, the future dies along with you; if you're right, you've sentenced mere children to a life of soldiering.scott summers understands this, he feels, more than most. he's been fighting charles xavier's war since he was fourteen years old. he's probably leading the remaining 198 mutants to their deaths, but he clings to the shreds of hope that say they'll pull out a victory in the end.logan's been a soldier for longer than he can remember. not that it means much; he doesn't have much of a memory anyway. but he's lived long enough to know that children can't be put on the front lines, even if that's what they choose to do.the two have parted ways - and not in good company. but both know that something has to change in order to survive the coming storm.





	what happened to who we used to be? what have we become?

**Author's Note:**

> SCHISM SUCKS SO I FIXED IT!!! SUCK IT JASON AARON!! @marvel lemme fix ur x-books, you Suck At Writing Them Tbh

_“I don’t want_ any _part of what you’re doing here. Not anymore. I’m_ leaving _… Goodbye, Scott.”_

 

Logan’s last words to him echo in Scott’s mind, every repetition sharper than the last. They leave bloody trails in his scarred mind; they feast on his broken heart like vultures on prime carrion. They tear him apart, let him rebuild himself, and reduce him to nothing over and over and over. It hurts more than he’s ever imagined, more than he knew betrayal could.

 

He doesn’t let it show how much it hurts. He can’t. He has an island, a nation full of vulnerable people to lead, to save. Life moves on, and he’s got to move on with it. Now, all he can do is what he’s always done: carefully file away his emotions and lock the heavy steel doors on them. Emotional responses are weak ones, he tells himself. No sense in letting sentiment get the better of him.

 

But at night, when he lies awake running battle scenarios in his head next to a sleeping Emma, he lets that emotional speculation take control. What if Logan was right? What if he really is endangering children just for his own gain? What if everything he’s worked for since M-Day has been a lie he’s told himself again and again? What if these children end up more damaged than they were when they started?

 

He gently lifts Emma’s arm off of his chest and tip-toes over to Utopia’s main message server. The bright lights on the buttons make his eyes water with their sudden brilliance, but he blinks it away. Sighing, he pecks out a simple message for Logan.

 

> ssummers: we need to talk.

 

Just for emphasis, he adds

> ssummers: and don’t pull the “old man” excuse. i know you can use a ****ing chat server, so suck it up and talk to me. i need you to.

to make sure he gets his point across. He’s learned a lot about getting one’s point across in the past few years. Obtuse Senators and threatening UN officials have made it a necessity.

 

Stifling a yawn, he wanders back to his and Emma’s shared bed and pulls the comforter up to his chin. He’s too tired right now to worry about anything other than Emma’s silky-soft hair tickling his right ear and his breathing falling into rhythm with hers.

 

* * *

 

Scott awakes to Emma’s sweet, lilting English accent and the smell of shitty coffee. _Maxwell House?_ he thinks, groping around his bedside table for his glasses. Groggily, he pulls himself into an upright position and runs a hand through his bed head. Little tufts of soft, brown hair adhere themselves to his fingertips as they skim across his scalp.

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead. I didn’t think I’d be up before you, but I suppose there’s such a thing as an off day.” Emma laughs; a clear, high, bell-like sound that peals through the suite. “I’ve made two toasts and an egg for you. And coffee, but it’s not terribly good. It’s left over from Henry’s laboratory supplies.”

 

“What’s the risk of getting food poisoning from it?” Scott says, yawning. “I’ve got a class to run today, so if I’m going to get salmonella, I don’t think I wanna risk it.”

 

Emma arches a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “I think it’s fine, Scott. It wasn’t even close to anything our dear Dr. McCoy was incubating before he ran off. It’s just bad instant coffee, darling.”

 

“Great. I’ll have a cup of Hank’s crappy chemical coffee, sans science goop.”

 

“Here,” Emma says, sliding a stained mug across the counter to him, “you can fill it up. You’re a big boy.”

 

“I just woke up. You wouldn’t make me pour my own coffee when I’ve only been up for five minutes, would you? I think that’s cold.” Scott gives her a mock-pout, plump lower lip sticking as far out as he can get it. “Well, if I can’t convince you to pour me coffee, maybe we can share yours. Like lovers do. C’mon.”

 

“No. No, no, no, Mr. Summers. _This_ has brandy in it, and we do _not_ need a drunk Cyclops running around Utopia. You can pour your own coffee, and that’s final.”

 

Yawning, Scott shrugs and walks over to the coffee machine on the counter to fill his mug. “Speaking of running, has anyone seen the Lights? I think Hope said she was going to go out with Laurie, but I don’t know about the boys.”

 

“Yes. The girls just saw them in the mess hall. They’re also telling me that the food down there is horrid,” Emma replies, curling a lock of white-blonde hair around her finger. “They’re serving Yorkshire puddings, and apparently they’re soggy _and_ burnt. They want _you_ to do something about it.”

 

“Tell them they can deal with it. We don’t always have the luxury of nice things. I mean, we’re all scrimping and saving to make sure we stay afloat and alive.”

 

“Mm. Right as always, darling. I won’t tell them just yet; I’ll let them get over their Yorkshire pudding-related horror first,” Emma says, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on Scott’s cheek. “I’m going to go get cleaned up. Eat something. See you in a few minutes?”

 

“Yeah.” Scott takes a small sip of his coffee, almost spitting it out in the process. “God, that’s awful.”

 

“It’s Folgers, Scott. I don’t know what else you expected,” Emma says over her shoulder as she saunters towards their bathroom.

 

“Mm. I thought it was Maxwell House,” he says to himself. Bracing himself, he takes another sip and manages to swallow. “Instant is much worse than I remembered.”

 

Coffee in hand, Scott wanders over to the same spot where he had stood last night. The daylight streaming in through the windows masks the sharp light coming from the console, but he can see the message waiting for him.

 

> logan_jgs: Talk? Fuck off
> 
> logan_jgs: I dont know what you want but I dont want any part of it

 

“Logan, you idiot. You dumb, dumb idiot,” Scott mutters, eyes narrowing. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick your ass. I’m gonna fly all the fucking way to Westchester just to kick your unbreakable ass.”

 

“Scott, dear, who’s going to Westchester? Should I be worried?” Emma asks from behind him.

 

“Hmm?” Scott whips around. “Oh, no, it’s nothing. Logan’s an asshole is all.”

 

“You two are acting like children over this whole split. For God’s sake, Scott, it doesn’t have to be this hard.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m _trying_ , but Logan’s being a stubborn bitch about it,” Scott huffs, crossing his arms and frowning.

 

“Mm. Darling, if I may offer some advice…”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I think you’re both idiots,” Emma says frankly, examining her French tips. “You’re stubborn fools, and you’re hurting yourselves by playing this little game.”

 

“So what do I _do_ , then? I’m trying my best!” Scott waves his hands, exasperated, in Emma’s face. “He told me to fuck off! I don’t know how to respond!”

 

“Of course you do, dear. Now, I’m off to get dressed,” she replies simply, shrugging off her dressing gown and heading over to the antique oak bureau.

 

Scott sighs and takes another swig of coffee, grimacing like it’s bad whiskey. “Great. Back to the drawing board, then.”

 

“‘Logan, I think you’re an idiot for responding to me like that…’ ‘Logan, we need to talk, even if you’re being irritating as all hell…’ ‘The fate of the cosmos lies in our hands, so shove your holier-than-thou shit up your ass and talk to me…’ Oh, I like that last one,” Scott murmurs absentmindedly, fiddling with the console’s controls.

 

> ssummers: the fate of the cosmos lies in our hands, so shove your holier-than-thou shit up your ass and talk to me like a reasonable person.

 

“Hmm. It sounded better in my head.” He runs his fingers lightly over the keys, watching them light up with subtle color as they respond to his touch. “Oh, well. At the least, it’ll get a rise out of him. You better not fuck this up for me, old man.”

 

On impulse, he types out

> ssummers: i need you, logan. please. i’m begging you.

and smiles. _Nothing like a little emotional vulnerability to get a man to grudgingly agree to your demands_ , he thinks. He kisses his fingertips and presses them gently to the console screen before turning around to leave. “You’re lucky I still love you enough not to give up on you,” he says finally, turning the server off and grabbing his coffee.


End file.
